SSS Rank: Spellcraft Sovereign-Chapter 138: Martial arts (6)
The final bell didn’t ring. There wasn’t one.
Just the slow drop of tension in the air, like heat bleeding off asphalt after the sun disappears.
Lucen stayed on his back, staring at the gym ceiling. Fluorescent panels. Dust trails in the light beams. He could feel every muscle in his body pulsing, not with adrenaline anymore, but leftover survival instinct.
Varik crouched beside him, handed him a water bottle without a word.
Lucen blinked at it like it was a foreign object. Then took it. Drank. Swallowed half wrong and coughed once.
"Still alive?" Varik asked.
"Nope," Lucen rasped. "This is hell. I’m a ghost."
"Good. Ghosts don’t cramp."
Lucen rolled to his side with a low groan. "Do ghosts get cartilage damage?"
Varik stood. "Only if they’re bad at footwork."
Lucen sat up slowly. "So all of them, then."
They didn’t laugh. Not exactly. But there was a silence that felt looser now. More relaxed.
Varik crossed to the corner, grabbed a towel, and tossed it to him. Lucen caught it with his face.
"You actually gonna sleep tonight?" Varik asked.
"I don’t even think I’m gonna dream," Lucen muttered, rubbing sweat off his neck. "My soul’s filing a complaint."
Varik sat beside him this time, back against the wall, one knee raised. He looked tired, but the quiet kind of tired. Earned. Balanced.
"You’re better," he said.
Lucen shot him a look. "You said that yesterday."
"I meant it less then."
Lucen cracked a grin, wiped his face again, and leaned back beside him.
They sat there for a while. Cooling off. The ambient hum of mana filters filled the room. In the distance, a punching bag swayed, just a little. No wind. Just memory.
Lucen finally said, "So that’s it? I’m trained?"
Varik raised an eyebrow. "No. You’re initiated."
"Sounds fake."
"Sounds real enough."
Lucen rolled his shoulders again. They popped. "You ever gonna explain why we did all this with zero system prompts?"
"Because none of it’s optional. You’ll need it before the system thinks you do."
Lucen stared forward. Thought for a second. Then asked, "You think I could’ve taken Rikta now?"
Varik tilted his head. "The way you are now?"
"Yeah."
"You wouldn’t have dodged the first blow. You’d have caught it. Then broken his stance."
Lucen blinked.
He grinned slowly.
’I would’ve folded him like a towel rack.’
"Nice," he muttered. "Now I want a rematch."
"You always want a rematch."
"You make it sound like a problem."
Varik stood up. Towel over one shoulder. "It’s only a problem if you stop earning them."
Lucen stayed sitting for a beat. Then finally dragged himself upright. His shirt was stuck to his back. His spine felt like it was humming in the wrong key.
"Can I eat three burgers now?" he asked.
"Three’s fine," Varik said. "Four and I’m not carrying you."
Lucen blinked at him. "You carried me last time?"
Varik walked to the locker room. "No. But you might pass out in traffic."
Lucen followed, limping just a little.
Behind them, the gym floor was still and quiet.
But the air?
It held weight now.
Not pressure.
Presence.
As if something had shifted. Deep inside Lucen’s movement. His balance. His center. Like something permanent had clicked into place.
And for the first time since the training started, his system pinged.
[Passive Threshold Reached — Physical Aptitude Increased]
Lucen smiled.
’Took you long enough.’
—
The ride home didn’t start with music. Just the low hum of the engine and the gentle clink of a half-empty water bottle rolling somewhere under the passenger seat.
Lucen leaned against the window, still damp from sweat, hoodie halfway zipped, hair pushed back but not quite dry.
The seat creaked every time he shifted. His muscles didn’t hurt exactly, they just felt...used. Like everything had been emptied and folded back into place.
Varik drove one-handed. Window down a crack. The air outside wasn’t cold, but it bit a little when it hit skin still heated from training. City lights passed in strips. Yellow, white, red. No talking yet.
"You eat anything real today?" Varik asked, breaking the quiet like it was casual.
Lucen blinked. "Define real."
"Something that wasn’t carbonated, pre-packaged, or powder."
"I had noodles."
"That doesn’t count."
"They had protein."
"Powdered egg’s not protein."
Lucen squinted at him. "Okay, dad."
Varik didn’t smile. He just changed lanes.
Lucen let his head thump softly against the window. "’Bout to pass out anyway."
"Don’t. If you sleep now, you’ll cramp."
"I’ll cramp if I breathe too hard."
"You’ll recover faster if you stretch later."
Lucen turned slightly, slouching in his seat. "I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that. And then later, when I’m sore, I’ll blame you."
"That’s fair."
Another moment of quiet. The city outside slowed. They were near the outskirts now, less neon, more low-rises and silent corners with one streetlight each.
Lucen looked at the dashboard.
"You always this serious?" he asked.
Varik didn’t look over. "You think I’m serious?"
"You haven’t smiled since we met."
Varik shrugged. "Not my job."
"What is your job?"
"To make sure you don’t die."
"Bit dramatic."
Varik glanced at him finally. "You’ve seen what’s out there."
Lucen tapped a knuckle against the door frame. "Yeah. I also saw a guy chug a mana drink mid-fight and try to suplex a giant bug."
"That’s the average ranker."
"Tragic."
Varik slowed as they neared Lucen’s building. The street was mostly empty now. Just the usual couple sitting by the corner stall with skewers and cheap chairs, and a kid riding in lazy loops on a bike too small for him.
The car idled as Lucen stepped out.
He didn’t close the door right away.
"You’re coming by tomorrow?" he asked.
Varik nodded once. "Yeah. Morning. Get some rest."
Lucen gave him a mock salute. "Can’t wait for more unarmed ’character building.’"
"Keep that attitude and I’ll let the gym bots spar you."
Lucen grinned. "Honestly? Might be safer."
He shut the door.
Varik didn’t drive off right away.
He watched Lucen walk toward the stairs, slow, stiff, but steady.
Then he pulled away from the curb without a word.
